Rules of the Game
by stargazr41
Summary: Flack and Lindsay form a bond over a common love of baseball. When Flack wants to turn that bond into something more, will he strike out or hit it out of the park? don’t you love baseball analogies?


-1Summary: Flack and Lindsay form a bond over a common love of baseball. When Flack wants to turn that bond into something more, will he strike out or hit it out of the park? (don't you love baseball analogies?)

AN 1.For anyone who doesn't know, the NY Mets and Phila. Phillies are baseball rivals. (I'm talking ugly stuff happening in the lots and in the stands). We're heading into the World Series and my boys (I'm from So. NJ) just swept the Mets (again) so this came from that. I know Eddie- hockey, work w/ me here.

2. Characters do not belong to me- I'm borrowing, will return unharmed as always, when finished.

3. If someone would like to post this somewhere, go ahead, share the fun, as long as my name stays in the byline.

4. Not happy with the title, but I have a paper to write for my Grad class so I must get this out of my head.

5. Time shifts from last summer to this fall- keep an eye out.

I'm finished now- enjoy -s

Rules of the Game

_15 Sep '07_

When the sports page of the _Daily News _flopped down on top of the newspaper he was already reading, Don Flack couldn't help but laugh. He knew this moment was coming. Had been waiting for it in fact, almost looked forward to it. He found himself looking forward to many moments like those he was about to experience.

Flack calmly speared more lo mein with his fork while eyeing the woman standing to his left. "Something I can help you with Detective?"

"Yes. You can hand over the $1 you owe me from last night's game." Lindsay Monroe leaned against the small table, almost invading his already limited space. She gave Sheldon Hawkes a quick "hey" before turning back to the object of her torture.

"I don't know what you're talking about Monroe."

"Oh no you don't. We made a bet, and thanks to your 'Series-bound Mets' I'm up $1. And it looks like the Phillies are going for three straight series sweeps. They choked last night Flack, face it. Chase and the Phils are just better."

"We'll see about that come October."

"You wanna bet on it?" Before Don could reply, the phone on Lindsay's hip began to ring. She excused herself from the conversation as work took precedence. Don watched her on the call amazed at how quickly her demeanor could change to the professional side.

Danny Messer came sliding into the break room a moment later, having spotted Lindsay from the hallway. He nodded a greeting to the two men before focusing on his partner. "Hey Montana, Sid's got COD on our John Doe."

"Great. Trace just came back with, and I quote "something odd" on the samples you collected. Maybe between the two we'll finally find something that will get this case moving." Lindsay closed her phone and joined the trio by the table.

"Yeah well if Flack would get off his ass and find the identity of our vic, that could help too." Danny countered, "nice tie by the way." Sheldon met Lindsay's eyes with a "here we go again" look.

"Your sister gave it to me." Don stroked the pink strip affectionately giving Danny a half smile. "That's a fantastic shirt, Mess. It gets any tighter and they'll have to be cut it off of to get ya out of it."

"I ain't hearin' no complaints Flack."

"I'll file one."

"Ok, if you boys are done flirting," Lindsay fixed them both with amused gazes before turning, "I'll be by the elevators. I'll see you later Shel. Don't think we're finished here, Flack."

"I'd be disappointed if we were Monroe." She smiled at him before leaving the room.

Danny followed, calling after her as she walked. Don continued watching them as they waited for the car to take them to autopsy. Pouring over the file Danny held in his hand, they looked like two CSIs going over details of a case. To him, they looked close. _They always will be_, teased the little voice in his head. A snort brought his attention back to the table.

"You bet against Lindsay?"

"I bet against the Phillies. How was I supposed to know they'd sweep the Mets?"

"Haven't they done it twice already this season?"

"Just shut up and eat your chicken and broccoli Hawkes."

By the time Don stole another look at the elevator bank, she was gone.

_9 July '06_

A week after the bombing that nearly killed him, Don woke to find Lindsay sitting next to his hospital bed reading the paper. She gave him a simple hey, asked him how he was feeling and if he wanted her to catch him up on any news. Mets, he said. She ran down the last few games and others in the league like she worked for ESPN. Apparently she started coming to the hospital to sit with him a few days after the explosion. Later, Stella told him Mac made her take a week's leave- the concussion and bruises on her back were worse than she let on.

That was how it all started. Three days a week, before or after her shift, they'd watch a game or she'd read to him from the papers or magazines about the games or any other topic he chose. She'd catch him up on work- cases and the team, nothing stressful. She even met his mother one day in passing. And didn't that start a series of rapid fire questions from mom that ended with "she kinda has this thing with Danny."

They had a friendly working relationship before his accident, but now they shared a common love - baseball- even if she was a fan of his hometown team's rival. Theirs was a friendly rivalry that eventually bred a deeper friendship.

Amazingly enough, Lindsay was the only one who didn't fuss over him. Mac still felt somewhat responsible, Stella turned big-sisterly, Hawkes was always checking his vitals, and Danny was still reeling after Aiden and Louie. That's why he asked Monroe to be there when he was discharged. Well not the only reason.

The doctors suggested that someone spend the day with him so he could acclimate himself with living on his own again. Lindsay easily agreed. She commandeered his keys and a shopping list the day before so he didn't have to worry about anything. When he came home, not only was the fridge stocked with actual meals, but the apartment was clean. He was dangerously close to forming a crush on Lindsay Monroe. Of course, at the time, he had convinced himself it was the medication.

_15 Sep '07 _

"Hey Flack," Lindsay poked her head her head out of DNA and motioned the lanky Detective to follow her. "Bauer, the ex-boyfriend you talked to the other day. He's lying."

"Yeah, I got that too. You have something concrete I can confront him with 'cause somehow I don't think 'liar liar pants on fire' is gonna work with this one."

Lindsay laughed before continuing. He loved that laugh, that smile. Careful Don. "DNA. Mr. Pants-on-Fire shed a few tears while murdering his ex. Our vic's shirt was purchased the day before he died. There was no way Paul Bauer would have had contact with it unless he was there the night of the murder. So go get him, Flack. Make him talk."

"Alright boss, but your coming with me. Someone's got to explain this tear thing." Don pushed the door open, holding it for her, as she pulled off her latex gloves and hung up the standard-issue lab coat.

"You better get this guy to crack quick. The game starts at one. I want to see the Mets fans cry when the Phils teach them how to play ball. Again."

"You're a little scary right now, Monroe. I think you might be able to take Bauer on your own."

"If that's what it takes. This guy killed Todd Cooper, let's find out why."

Don was surprised at how quickly Paul Bauer caved once Lindsay presented him with the tear evidence.

While he pounded away at Bauer trying to make the man cower in fear, Lindsay played the sympathy card. Playing good cop- bad cop with Lindsay was always fun; perps expected her to be the sweet, kind one. When she wasn't, Don felt a little chill run through his body. He loved when she played bad cop.

That wasn't for today. Lindsay actually looked like she cared. Once Bauer was led out of the room in tears and cuffs, her true disgust came through.

"I don't think I'll ever understand these people, Don." He sat on the corner of the table, closing the file in front of her.

"That's a good thing, Linds." She looked up at him with a questioning look. "Stay out of their heads. Leave that to me. Your job is the evidence. You're good at it- stick with that."

He wasn't being condescending just sweetly, naively protective. Lindsay placed her hand over his, squeezing lightly. Giving him a quiet thanks, she stood.

"So, what do ya say you head back to the lab, finish your report. I'll process Bauer, and when I'm finished I'll come get ya. Still ten minutes from first pitch. We can watch at my place, order in, relax and watch the Mets kick the Phillies' asses."

"Doubtful." Flack stood as she walked away from him.

"What part? You coming over, or the Mets winning?"

She turned at the door with a small, teasing smile, "I'll meet you at your place when I'm finished."

Don couldn't keep the smile from his lips as watched her. Jeans and a simple pink ribbed cotton tank did wonders for her small frame. Danny and Hawkes wore jeans to work all the time, Lindsay should start in on that dress code too. He glanced at the TV before turning his attention to her again. Luckily New York was still leading 3-2 in the 6th. Come on boys, three more innings.

When he took girls to ball games, they spent most of it trying to get a tan. But Lindsay took it all in. She watched the game, followed the players and the season. She was sweet, intelligent, feisty, strong. This woman sitting inches from him was unlike any other he had ever been attracted to before and it was killing him.

"So all that time I was spouting facts and history, trying to explain ERA, and battin' average to ya and ya knew? All of it. Since the beginning." Wisps of brown hair floated across her face as she laughed, tucking her legs underneath her as she did so. His body twisted toward her, left arm falling across the back of the couch while one long leg bent on top of the cushion. "Ok, I don't get it. Why'd ya let me go on like an idiot?"

She shot him a disbelieving look before smiling softly. "It was sweet- you trying to "teach" me the game. Besides I tried to tell you, twice. First when you were in the hospital, though I don't blame you for that you were kinda loopy at times. And then during the first game you took me to last summer."

"You did not." Don had, at some point, inched closer to her, his knee touching her thigh. The game on the TV screen across from them all but forgotten now.

"Yes I did. Oh that's right. You were distracted by Ms Barely Legal and her little strip show. The heat wave, the Met-blue bra. Oops! There goes my t-shirt. You remember that though, don't you?" Lindsay watched as confusion, then recognition flitted across the tall detective's face. A small smile came unwittingly as he recalled the blonde fan from the year before. "Yeah, I thought so."

Caught reminiscing, Don could only muster a shrug of his shoulders. "Could you blame me?"

"Do you really want me to respond to that question?"

"So you're blaming all of your lies on a young lady who was most likely just trying to relieve the effects of heat stroke."

"Water would have done the trick."

"Jealous Monroe?"

"Hardly Flack."

"Sounds like jealousy."

"I've seen myself in a bra, Don. Trust me, not jealous." She flashed him a saucy little smile the likes he'd never seen from her. When he returned the smile in kind, she blushed, but didn't move nor look away from his searching eyes. Deep brown eyes sparkled in a way that mesmerized him.

At some point in the last year, his "little crush" had turned into a full-blown attraction. Things- his best friend, morals, her past, fear- had stopped him from acting on it. The thing with Danny had started and ended with a kiss that she said felt "brotherly." They mutually decided to leave it at that, lucky for Don. Danny was even dating someone from the DA's office. Lindsay's court case had been settled and everyone agreed that she was pretty much back to her old self now. So why the hell wasn't he acting on that attraction now? Fear. Anytime he thought about making his intentions known to her, fear got in the way. He didn't want to lose the friendship they had built over the last year. Shit, now he sounded like a girl. Screw it.

Don nudged her thigh with his knee to which she responded with raised eyebrows and a smile. His formerly idle left hand was now moving along her shoulder blade toward the back of her neck pulling her closer. Lindsay placed her hand on his thigh, giving him permission to continue and giving herself leverage against the taller detective. Her entire body was nearly turned into his and just as his lips were about to taste hers, Flack shifted, landing on the remote in the process. The volume turned up, not much, but enough to bring Don's attention from the willing, wanting woman in front of him to the flat, cold screen across the room.

"Sonofabitch, how did that happen?" Don jumped up from the couch, hands fisted in his hair, as his eyes took in the images on the screen. Jimmy Rollins was on third base, and Philly somehow pulled ahead 5-3 in the 8th. "No! No! That is not possible! What the hell happened?"

"They self-destructed. It seems to be going around." Lindsay said from her place on the floor where he'd dumped her just moments ago.

"Oh shit, Linds!" Shocked and embarrassed bright blue eyes focused on her as he reached for her small frame. "You ok? God, I'm so sorry. Are you ok?"

Once she nodded her well-being, he let her go and walked a few feet away. He sunk into the big blue chair at the end of the coffee table and dropped his head into his hands.

Lindsay was ready to jump in his adorably embarrassed lap and happily try again until she heard his nearly inaudible words.

"I knew this was a mistake."

"What?" His eyes met hers and instantly regretted the words. He quickly stood, coming toward her.

"No Lindsay. I mean trying to kiss you was a mistake. Making a move I mean. No that's not what I mean. Shit. I don't know what I mean."

"Don. I don't know what's going through your head right now, but I have a feeling that if you keep talking, I'll be really pissed off in a matter of seconds. So I'm gonna leave, let you collect your thoughts, and I'll see you tomorrow." She moved away from him, grabbing her purse and heading to the door as quickly as possible.

"Linds?"

"Think about what you want here, Don. I'll see you later." He reached the door in time to lock it after her and promptly bang his head against it for good measure.

_3 Sep '06_

They'd caught an afternoon game at Shea and now they were just hanging out, enjoying the company. Rented DVDs sat unwatched on the coffee table next to a warm pizza box as they settled in for one of the last quiet nights before Don started back to work.

This was the first time he'd been to her apartment, and with Lindsay's permission, Don found himself wandering around while she popped in a movie. He was currently scrutinizing a series of four sepia-toned photos hanging by what looked like an authentic baseball jersey on her living room wall. Two of the photos were of a man in a WWII uniform. Another was of that same man in a Phillies uniform- probably from the 40s. Next to it was a group picture with the five men wearing the same uniform. She really did love that team.

Don walked to the couch, picking up his beer from the table before settling to Lindsay's right.

"Ok, so don't get me wrong it's not like I'm an expert on the state of Montana or anything, but uh, baseball doesn't seem like something that'd be too popular. Like the cattle would get offended you're making all those baseballs and gloves outta their skin."

Lindsay honored him with a full-bellied laugh and a hand, momentarily, on his thigh. Don took a long pull of his beer and glanced at the TV, both in a fruitless effort to cool down.

Lindsay collected herself long enough to face the television again and was now digging around in the pizza box. She pulled out two pieces, placed them on her plate and settled back into the couch.

"I'm not one of those girls who follows a team because their winning or because they have a hot second baseman. I know the rules, the history. The players, the stats. I know this game."

"So why the Phillies? Don't tell me it's cause Chase has a nice ass." He teased her relentlessly about her love for the All-Star second baseman. She rolled her eyes at him as she washed the cheese and pepperoni down with a swig of Sam Adams. She already related this story to him, twice, but she knew both times he was slightly distracted.

"While Chase's skills and, ahem, extra assets don't hurt, I've always been a Phillies fan. It's genetic. My grandpa Jack played shortstop for the Phils in the mid 30s." Lindsay met Don's look of awe with one of pride. She pointed to the pictures he was admiring earlier. "He enlisted in the Army after the attack on Pearl Harbor, then lost his arm in Bastogne. He couldn't play anymore- it broke his heart. So he went back to the family ranch in Bozeman and took care of the business side of things." The former Montanan nodded slightly and took a deep breath before continuing. "He loved the game. Growing up, I spent a lot of time with him, and I learned to love it too."

The two young detectives spent the next four hours talking about childhood, grandparents, ranching, and baseball until Don knew it was time to head home.

Don Flack now knew he could no longer blame his pain medication for his crush on Lindsay Monroe. He was no longer taking his meds.

_16 Sep '07_

Flack didn't see her tomorrow. He was immediately dispatched to a homicide at a midtown bakery where he was told he would be meeting Stella and Danny. One look at Stella, and he knew she knew. Damn women. They probably went for coffee and Lindsay told her everything.

Flack launched into the facts he knew about the victim, scene, and crime.

"Good to see you too, Flack." Danny put his case down next to the body and began processing.

"Don." Stella intercepted him as he tried to make his way outside.

"Stella."

"How are you this morning?" The smile was too sweet, too inquisitive.

"Look, Stella, I know you talked to her. So just give me whatever sage advice you have and let me go bang my head against a wall."

Stella placed her hand soothingly on Don's arm. "We went for coffee yesterday, not long after she left you. She didn't tell me much, so don't worry. Just that you two obviously have your wires crossed. So my sage advice, smart ass, is talk to her. This time, try it without your foot in your mouth."

"I'm bound to screw it up, Stel. And I'm not even sure she feels the same way."

"Oh I don't know about that, hon. She seemed pretty interested to me."

Don perked up immediately. He looked at her through squinted eyes, so much so that the seasoned CSI started to squirm. Stella wouldn't lie to him.

"Would you stop that. Damn it, Flack. Just talk to the woman."

As Don left to follow a lead, Danny stepped up beside Stella. "So Montana and Flack, huh?'

She watched him with curious eyes, "Maybe. How would you feel about that?"

"I think it's about damn time Don found himself a decent girl, and I couldn't think of a better one for him." Messer gave her a smile as she slung her arm around his shoulder.

"That's very grown up of you Danny."

"Yeah, besides the way those two move it should be about six months before they actually kiss anyway." The smile turned into a scowl as Stella smacked him on the back of the head.

Four hours later, Don Flack found himself in front of Lindsay Monroe's door. According to Adam, she'd been called in at about eight last night and left at eight this morning. Now at three in the afternoon, Don wasn't sure if she would even be awake. He took the chance anyway.

She opened the door slowly, smiling at him as he walked past her and into the living room. Her laptop was open on the coffee table and the TV was on. Of course- she was watching the final game of the series. He grabbed the remote and turned it off. No distractions this time.

"Do you want something to drink?" Lindsay motioned behind her at the kitchen when he continued to stare at her with those unparalleled blue eyes.

Don loosened his tie as he took in the sight of her. Short brown hair was pushed back by a thin black band. Jeans covered her toned legs and a yellow Beatles t-shirt fit snugly to her upper half. The room was beginning to feel very warm. And he still had yet to say a word.

They stood, watching each other in silence.

"Don…?"

Whether it was the inflection in her tone or merely her voice, it spurred him to action. In long strides, he came to her and stopped two feet away from where she stood in the small foyer.

"I wanted to kiss you last night. I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, but you had other things on your plate. Danny, the trial. I didn't think you'd appreciate me adding to it. Linds, I like what we have here," he motioned between them as he held her eyes, "and I don't want to lose it, but I'm willing to take the risk. But if it's not what you want you gotta tell me now."

"Don, I've wanted you to kiss me for months." He was pretty sure 'you moron' was supposed to be attached to the end of that sentence. "I'm not good at making the first move. I thought I was sending out the right signals. We hang out more than some couples I know. The movies, the games, lunch, dinner, coffee. Jesus, Flack I've practically molested you. I know you aren't gay, or seeing anyone, so I just thought you weren't interested."

"Trust me, I'm interested. Very interested." Don slowed the words, hoping to get the point across.

He was close enough to wrap his arms around her, which he did with ease. Looking down on her, he knew that there was no way for him to screw this up now.

"How long have you wanted to kiss me?" Brown eyes searched blue as she posed the quiet question.

"Hmm?" She pinched his bicep, breaking the spell her eyes had cast on him. "What?"

"I know you heard me, I think you're avoiding the question."

He licked dry lips and bent toward her. Midway down, just as her eyelids began to fall, Don whispered "Since last August."

Lindsay's eyes opened wide, and she pulled back slightly in surprise. His name fell quietly from her lips. Don smiled before running his hand up her spine and into her hair causing Lindsay to shudder. Tugging her toward him, he watched as her eyes closed again. Their lips touched lightly at first, gently moving against the other's in learning. A second apart and they met again, this time more intensely.

When Lindsay pushed her way into his mouth, he eagerly allowed her access. She moved her hand from his bicep to his head, fingers scraping across his scalp. The other hand fisted in his blue dress shirt. Both were pulling him as close as possible. One hand in her hair and the other on small of her back were doing the same. They played, explored, and teased each other into a breathless, moaning frenzy.

Two hours later, Lindsay lay ensconced in Don's long arms on the couch. Making out in the middle of the hallway didn't last long. They hit the wall, then headed to the couch, where they happily continued. Both lost their shirts before they decided to stop not wanting to take it too far too fast. Now, clothed again, they lay touching and listening as music filtered in from Lindsay's stereo.

"I have to say, now that I've seen you in a bra, I can understand why you wouldn't have been jealous of that girl at the game. I'm impressed Monroe." If she hadn't buried her face in his shoulder, he would have seen the blush sweep across her cheeks.

"I too am impressed, Flack. You keep things so well hidden under those suits and ties." She smiled, meeting his lips with hers. The kiss was meant to be and started out light, but quickly turned heated. Hands again wandered and soon their bodies rolled until he was on top of her. Quickly, he pulled away and sat on the other end of the couch.

"I better go." She rested her bare foot against his thigh and laughed as his eyes went wide. "Linds, I really have to leave. Now."

"You don't have to."

"What was all that about not sleeping with a guy on the first date? Lindsay Monroe, you little tease?"

"What? No! Besides," she pulled her body to frame his against the edge of the couch, "this technically wasn't a date."

Don ran his hand over her jean-clad thigh, "So we wait two dates, is that what you're saying?"

"I think you're the tease, Donald Flack." When she playfully swatted away his hand he used the opportunity to drop a kiss on her willing lips.

"No means no, Monroe." Another kiss. "So if ya think about it, we've already kinda done the first date, and the second and third and so on. You know all the times we've done dinner, movies, ball games, coffee, all that. Plus, you've met my parents and sister. Jesus Linds, we've been in a relationship for months and didn't even know it."

She laughed along with him. Both her quiet laugh and his deeper rumble faded quickly as their eyes locked again.

"I really don't want to move too fast here Linds."

"Don, at the rate of progression this relationship is moving, we'll have sex in two years. I'm not waiting that long."

"Yeah, me either. I just want to make sure you'll still respect me in the morning." He added with a smirk.

"Play your cards right and I'll do a lot more than just respect you in the morning." She met his smirk with one of her own.

"Lucky for me I'm really good at cards."

As they quickly made their way to Lindsay's bedroom, the New York DJ sadly recapped the Mets' 6-10 loss to the Phillies; their third straight series loss to the team. Neither Don nor Lindsay heard and neither would have cared at the moment. Tomorrow would be different story.


End file.
